So that's that: there's nothing left to say
It's all gone: it blew up in my face
Maybe I could be a model of the human race
And take living as a prize for second place
And all the things we left unsaid
The strawmen that we beat up instead
Were just flies buzzing in my head
The world turned faster than this
Young, dumb ba*tard could tell
Hell, oh well, maybe we were
Better off dead
So nobody predicted we'd be gone
'Cause God told me, your preacher got it wrong
The market crashes, turns to ashes
That you're dancing on
While some fat lady cues up for her song.
You just don't panic, so they said
In all the good books that I have read
You just lay back and feed your head
Well that ain't clever
That never got nothing to sell
Hell, oh well, maybe we were better off dead